Simulacra
by T-R-Us
Summary: Conspirator’s Trilogy – Part Two: Daine has finally made it home, and now it’s Numair that every one is looking for. Can he be found before the whispers of conspiracy grow louder?
1. Terror

**Title: **"Simulacra"  
**Rating:** T  
**Authoress:** T-R-Us  
**Pairings:** Numair/Daine  
**Setting**: Somewhat AU. Set between Lady Knight and Trickster's Choice.

**Disclaimer:** I – T-R-Us – am not Tamora Pierce. Of course, you already knew that, since it says 'T-R-Us' and not 'Tamora Pierce' on my user page. I do not _own_ the majority of the characters in the story. One or two did come out of my own mind, but they don't really have too much weight to anything. Anyway, since it's "important", I'll say I own nothing. Nothing but the laptop upon which I write. I don't even own my own _brilliant_ mind, since it's on loan from Alex P. Keaton – who I also don't own – and he can live without it for a few … years. That's it for the disclaimer, I'll see _you_ in the Authoress' Note.

**Summary:** Conspirator's Trilogy – Part Two: Daine has finally made it home, and now it's Numair that every one is looking for. Can he be found before the whispers of conspiracy grow louder?

**Authoress's Note:** "Simulacra" is the sequel to "Songs of the Past", and is part two of the Conspirator's Trilogy. If you haven't read the first part, I suggest you do before continuing with this. However, a re-cap will be sorta included here, so happy reading!

**Chapter One: "Terror"  
**_  
The feeling in his arms had disappeared what felt like a lifetime before, leaving only a dull throbbing in its place. It was only his arms that were blessed with an all-consuming numbness, while his shoulders buckled in agony under the weight of the lead chains pinioning him to the cold slab of rock. An altar – his head, always thirsty for knowledge, reminded him – it was an altar. _

_With a wince as one of the chanters circling him bumped against his foot, the man closed his eyes to the pain. His toes stuck out at awkward angles, broken in the struggle that had brought him there. The mixture of pain and fear was quickly becoming too much for his head to take, it pounded agonizingly, while a combination of blood, sweat, and saliva drizzled its way down his forehead. _

_With his eyes closed, he could almost **feel** her hand at his brow, **hear** her voice quietly calming his fears as she wiped away the dirt and grime of his past days of mistreatment. Her scent came foremost to his mind, a mixture of the dusty stable-smell that he'd come to love after only a few weeks of knowing her. It was intoxicating, and the man clung to it like a life line. Her expressive eyes, her soft touch. A tear found it's way into his eyes, a tear that she would have kissed away. His illusion lasted only a few precious moments, before the chanting that had filled his ears as only a soft buzz escalated to a dull roar. _

_People around him, fellow captives, began to cry out in pain, filling the air with their screams on top of the other sounds of the chamber. He knew he would soon join them in their cacophony of misery. _

_The sting began suddenly, as if someone had flicked a switch, while an excruciating flash shot through him. Head rolling listlessly, he collapsed, his only support being the lead holding him to the cool stone of the altar._

Something was wrong. Shivering against the early morning chill, Veralidaine Sarrasri shot up in bed. She did not need to look far for the cause of her awakening, there was a bristling sensation running up and down her spine that said something was out of place in the room usually shared with her teacher, and lover. Craning her head to the side, the wild mage's eyes flicked from left to right. The feeling seemed akin to the one her mother had had when there was a smudge on her spotless walls, but Daine knew different. This was magic.

Not wanting to sit up, she shifted her legs under the thick blanket. There was no one else in the room, a fact that caused her far more worry than it should have. The familiar weight of the young dragon who usually slept at the foot of her bed was gone, as was the warm feeling of her back pressed to Numair's, as he slept off another late night of reading. Sparing a quick glance out the window, she noted that it was not quite dawn.

The memory of what had happened hit her with full force, as it often did when she first woke to her cold bed. Numair was gone. Kitten had disappeared with him. The thought of her own amnesia and wanderings on top of the loss of her lover had her fighting back tears as she climbed out of bed. It had been a full week since her return from Emelan, and she could hardly believe how slowly the days dragged while she was reacquainted with her life. Worry brought more tears to her eyes. What if Numair was suffering as she had? Alone somewhere, not knowing who he was or – she choked back a soft sob – not remembering _her_. Him being so far left her with nothing but terror-filled thoughts. He could be hurt, dying. The image of him in pain filled her with dread as she reached for her hair brush. How could they expect her to live normally, to go through the regular day-by-day actions of someone who's world wasn't falling apart around them?

Throwing the brush down on her dresser, Daine grabbed a hair tie to quickly tame her unruly curls. If Numair had been there, it would have been _his_ large hands holding her hair out of her face while she pinned it up. _If Numair were here,_ she reminded herself, _I wouldn't be so addle-brained as to be unable to fix my own hair!_ After a brief struggle, she succeeded in keeping the mane mostly out of her eyes. Standing, she made for the dresser across the room. Skipping the top drawer -- _Numair's_ – she gave a sharp tug on the second.

The wood had a habit of jamming, and locking the drawer inside. _Probably why Numair took the drawer above it,_ Daine thought wryly, ignoring the pain that thoughts of Numair caused. There had been a time when the dresser's peculiarities would have caused her to laugh, and call her teacher to come and pry the drawer open, but not now, as Daine struggled to open it herself. When the wood finally gave, she pulled out a clean shirt and a pair of breeches, throwing them on and shoving it closed.

It was a long walk from her rooms in the mage's wing to the Rider's mess hall, and by the time Daine had a tray of food in her hands, her stomach growled irritably. It had been suggested that she take back her old room with the Riders, but just being in her own room near Numair's workspace let off a feeling of safety, overpowering the emptiness. She claimed that there was something about Numair's lingering scent that made her feel as though he were there, and Queen Thayet had found the wild mage buried under a pile of Numair's cloaks more than once.

"Good morning," Thayet had grabbed a similar tray and slid into place next to her friend. The furrowed brow marring her fair face betrayed her obvious worry at Daine's blank stare and full plate – again, the wild mage wasn't eating.

"What's so good about it?" Tired eyes swiveled up to the Queen's, as Daine pushed her breakfast around with her fork. She'd been hungry on the way to the mess, but once the food was in front of her, her appetite had disappeared completely.

"Did you have another nightmare?" Thayet had noticed the fatigue, and draped an arm around the younger girl's shoulder comfortingly. "Because if you have, we can get you a potion to –"

"No," Daine interrupted, "I haven't had another nightmare."

"He'll be—"

Thayet was cut off again, but this time by the slam of Daine throwing her fork down. Her red-rimmed eyes appeared wild, and were wet with tears. The wild mage didn't dare say anything in response, her backwoods breeding urging her to be careful and not accidentally insult her sovereign. It took ten steps before she was out of the mess, and ten more took her down the hall. In the week since she'd returned from Emelan, she had found herself subconsciously taking to Numair's favorite haunts. The nearby apple orchard, Balor's Needle – only twenty-three paces to the library.

"Well, rose, can't –"

Kel's eyebrows were up in an instant, smashing through her Yamani façade. "Cleon, I thought we were past this." Or at least, she'd hoped they were past it. "You're getting married, I'm in love with—

His cocky smile stopped her mid-sentence. "With…?"

"Oh, be quiet!" The morning had found her in a foul mood, one which had failed to disappear even after an extended work out. The overcast sky outside screamed of more bad weather to match the previous week of rain and slush. On top of this, Kel was just realizing that it had been a bad idea to remain inside with her fellow knight.

Cleon laughed at her sudden secretive behavior, but as much as he'd like to, he knew better than to pry. As he opened his mouth to make another sardonic comment, the sound of soft footsteps on the library's stone floor drew his attention toward a newcomer. "Hello, Daine."

Kel looked up at the wild mage's entrance as well, and murmured her own greeting. The knights had all agreed against mentioning the missing mage. "Are you going out on the balcony, again?" For the past few days, all of which Kel had spent in the library thanks to the weather, Daine had gone to lean against the rail of a small balcony overhanging the front of the castle. When the knight was met with a curt nod in response, she added, "The Baron is out there, you know."

Daine appeared to cast the information aside, as she pushed past the pair, pulling open the door. If it was anyone unimportant, they would leave her alone. If 'Baron' meant --

"I figured you'd be here eventually, lass." George Cooper stared at her concernedly as she slammed the heavy door shut behind her, stepping out onto the balcony.

"Hello, George."

He nodded, and she took several steps towards him, leaning against the rail. "Stefan said you hadn't been to the stables yesterday." His tone was light, as though it were far less serious than it should have been.

"It's too hard." Daine looked away, not needing to see the pity in his eyes. "Everywhere. They all walk around saying how much they miss him, and how sorry they are. No one loved him like I did—" she stopped, aghast at her inadvertent change in tense, "—do! Like I do!"

George attempted a smile, drawing her gaze back to him. "I know how you feel." He held up a hand to stop her before she could interrupt, "I've lost people in the Rogue, spent weeks worrying, only to have 'em turn up perfectly fine." Daine began to feel as though me _did_ know what she was going through, while George thanked any gods that were listening for his quick wits. "Numair is a great mage, he'll come through. Don't worry," he added, pulling her into a friendly hug, which she accepted gratefully. "Look—" his hand stretched out in the direction of an approaching cloud of dust. Raising his opposite hand to his brow, he added, "Alanna's coming."

Daine looked up, startled. "Where'd she go?"

"I suppose you didn't notice," His tone was teasing instead of accusing, and for this the wild mage was thankful. "Just after you came home, she dashed out to go and find that mage of yours." He watched as she colored slightly, "It's only been a week, and she's coming in pretty quickly… I don't want to get your hopes up, but I assume this means she's found something." The dust was moving closer to the castle with each passing moment.

"No… if it's been a week… she probably just wants to be home. Home in Corus, at least." She wouldn't let the bubble of excitement that had started to grow get any bigger. She couldn't.

"Now don't be so hasty, Jon said that in her last scry, she mentioned news."

Daine was torn between swatting him for not telling her this sooner, or hugging him. He began to move toward the door before she could do either. "Where are you going?"

He grinned back at her, "Are you daft? Alanna's here. I'll go back through the library. Why don't you just fly down? I'll meet you –"

The icy look she shot him rooted the Baron to his spot. "I'd rather walk."

"George!" Alanna, tired as she was, still had strength enough to throw herself into her husband's arms as soon as she saw him enter the front foyer. "Daine!" After noticing the wild mage, she gave her a firm squeeze on the shoulder, looking her over thoroughly. "You're pale, didn't you get any sleep last night?" Without waiting for an answer, the knight tugged them both into a private parlor.

"What's the word?" George sat himself down regally, reminiscent of his days as the Rogue, and turned toward Alanna.

"It's not good."

Daine frowned. "Not good?"

"There's trouble in Carthak. Those in the Emperor's Palace are in mourning."

"He's… no…."

Alanna shook her head. "No, it's Varice – someone we met in Carthak," she added for her husband's benefit. Smiling at Daine, she noticed the wild mage's scowl, and stiffened.

"You were looking for Numair, and all you found out was information about _her_?"

"Daine, _Varice killed herself._"

**Closing Comments:** Gasp! Varice is dead. Don't get any misconceptions there, she is in fact **dead**. Numair, at the moment, isn't. So don't worry about him. Yet, at least. I'll see you in chapter two! (So you'd better be there, 'cause I'm bringing cake.)


	2. Realizations

**Authoress' Notes: ** Okay, so Numair's all missing and stuff. First thoughts say, 'Hey! Why isn't Daine flying around looking for Numair?' Normally and all, I assure you she would. (I'm not trying to intentionally OOC her or anything, I'm doing a pretty good job of that unintentionally, but there is a pretty good reason.) I don't know If I'll explain it this chapter or the next… we'll see.

**Chapter Two: "Realizations"**

"Hello, miss." Stefan Groomsman descended swiftly down from the loft, landing with a sure-footed '_thud' _next to the unsuspecting wild mage. He had been watching her for days, acting on George's orders. Up till now, Stefan had never sought Daine out to speak with her, but knew he couldn't be silent any longer. "The horse's missed you."

She shrugged, caught off guard. "I just… have had other things on my mind…" Dropping off lamely, she took several steps towards Cloud's stall, wishing he would leave her alone.

"Were you planning on going for a ride?" Stefan had followed her, watching as she stepped into the pony's stall and stroked her nose. "If you do, there's something I think you should know," he was leaning against the stall door now, "You'll be stopped before you get very far."

"What! Why?"

"A new safety net. The King's Own is stretched all the way around Corus." 

Daine blinked, "Why are you telling me this?"

He laughed, wryly. "Orders from the Crown, miss. I'm to keep an eye out for your interests."

"Of course," Daine sneered, anger coursing through her until even Cloud realized it was best to take a step back. "That's just like his highness." She was yelling now, and incapable of keeping her anger in check. "Why does every one think that because I love Numair, I'm going to do something stupid?"

Bemused at her outburst, Stefan shook his head. "Begging your pardon, but it wasn't the king who I was speaking of. Not Jonathan, leastways – George."

"Oh." Daine was immediately sorry for what she had said. Them men in the woods positioned to protect the capital were from Jon, of course, but George was just looking out for her. He was someone to trust, she knew, and he would always be an exceptional friend. Alanna was lucky. "I feel so useless."

Stefan watched helplessly as a tear trickled down her cheek. "Now, now, miss. I'm sure he'll be found. The trail's not cold yet."

"What?" She turned her tear-streaked face in his direction, sniffing.

"You heard me," his voice was soft, "I believe you have a few things to think about now." He turned to leave, but was stopped by the wild mage's quiet reply.

"Wait – I – thank you." 

Stefan nodded, and disappeared into the hay loft.

Left with her thoughts, Daine returned to her and Numair's rooms. Anyone passing by the open hall door would have seen the wild mage half hidden under the bed, and cursing at the dust rising into the air. After what felt like an eternity to her, Daine's hand hit the wooden chest she was looking for. When she had first moved in with her teacher, she had done her best to keep the apartment clean; returning Numair's piles of books to their proper places, and keeping her few belongings in orderly boxes. While her lover had never been an especially tidy person, their differences had never been a problem.

Gingerly lifting the lid, she began to dig through the treasures inside – small portraits of her and her friends, letters, and the puppets her grandda had made for her – all mementoes of happier times. Moving aside a necklace, she encountered the pair of earbobs Numair had once given her. Gently, she lifted them so that the sunlight streaming in the open window gleamed through the crystal. Rubbing the dust of two years off, she replaced them in the box, in favor of a letter. It was undated, and Daine figured it had been set aside for several years.

'_Dearest Veralidaine_,'

Daine wrinkled her nose, but continued. 

'_I'm sure that heading caught your attention. I wish you were here with me, magelet, but you have far more important things to worry about. (Although I could most assuredly use your assistance in cleaning up this tower of mine, you're far better at this sort of thing than I am.)'_

The letter had been written shortly after the Tortallans' return from Carthak a few years ago. Numair had been sent off on some business of Jon's, the nature of which Daine had long since forgotten, and was unmentioned in the letter – although it had resulted in her teacher spending time at his tower near Pirate's Swoop.

Reading through the rest of the letter made Daine feel as though she had only just received it, and Numair was only a few days' ride away instead of missing. His written words were so Numair-ish that he may as well have spoken them.

When she reached the bottom of the page, she noted something that caught her interest.

'_Daine, I want to remind you that if you ever find yourself in trouble, you should speak with Lindhall. He's a very dear friend, and can surely sort out your problems in my absence._

Missing you and your lessons,  
Numair.'

Daine couldn't help but notice the cold way he had signed off his letter, and then disregarded it. It was no longer important. Folding the page carefully, she placed it back in the box, which was put back under the bed. In seconds, she was down the hall and on her way to Lindhall's apartment.

**End Chapter Two**

**Closing Comments:** Okay, so no explanation. However, in the original draft of this chapter, the letter Daine reads was written by Kaddar, reminding her that he could be reached through Lindhall. Considering Daine's problem, it works much better this way, with Numair telling her what to do. (Finding old letters from people you miss is the weirdest thing ever. It's a little on the warm-fuzzy side, and then also kinda creepy.)


	3. Powerless

**Authoress's Note:** When I rewrote the previous chapter, I accidentally left out a bit about Numair. Instead of adding it to this one, I decided to just leave it out – it shouldn't make much of a difference chronologically. (I hope.)

**Chapter Three: "Powerless" **

When Numair regained consciousness, the extreme darkness of his surroundings helped to dull the severe throbbing in his head. He was no longer restrained to the wall, but still was in no position to attempt escape. His breathing was shallow, and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat – just the action of raising his hands to his forehead was enough to make the mage dizzy, although he was sprawled stationary across the floor.

He could scarcely move.

The situation seemed hopeless. Trapped, likely buried deep underground; no magic, no hope.

Numair shivered slightly, the stone underneath him was smooth and terribly cold – a stark contrast to the fever that was rampaging through his body. Turning to the side so his flushed cheek was pressed against the cool floor, he began to formulate a plan. It was easily the most important thing to do now, and he gathered his thoughts quickly, despite the sluggishness that the fever was causing.

1 - The cell he was in couldn't be more than seven feet long, judging by the fact that spread lengthwise with his arms above his head, he could just barely touch either end. However, it wasn't nearly as wide.

2 – The only exit would be through the heavy iron door at one end, any other alternative would be through magic and, as Numair reasoned -

3 – Magic was impossible.

Of course magic would be impossible. His captor was _clearly_ a mage, and the captives – well, the captives were all mages, too. Black robe mages, to be more exact, and assuming that the robes their captor wore were anywhere near his correct station, he was one as well. Numair closed his eyes, remembering the faces he'd seen only a few hours ago. There had been two that were yet unspoken for.

Numair certainly didn't know all of his fellow high-powered mages, but he knew enough about them to know who had been present and who had not. Those who were missing – he was sure – were Clark, a man Numair had met twice and who's last name he'd forgotten, and a good friend of his: Niklaren Goldeye.

Thinking was quickly becoming too hard.

Fatigue was eating away at him, and the fever seemed to be gaining the upper hand.

There was nothing to do now, but wait _and plan_. Waiting would do best to come first, and Numair allowed himself to fall into a light sleep, slowly regaining his strength and giving his mind leave to go where it missed being most – home.

_When Numair had first taken Daine to see his apartment in Corus, he'd felt a twinge of embarrassment at how messy it had become. She didn't seem to mind, however, and he did his best to brush it off with a joke that she should "see his _real_ home and the mess _there._"_

"It isn't so messy," she had commented, looking around critically. "It's cluttered but not actually dirty_. You just need organization. Like me." She was referring to her mind, something Numair had helped her to sort out, just as she helped him put away his books and file his papers – not that they had stayed that way for more than a day or two.'_

"I'm sorry to break up your dreams,_ Master Salmalín,"_ the guard in the doorway said his name as though it were an insult, "You're wanted in the receiving chamber." He moved out of the door frame to grab Numair by the arm, allowing a stream of bright light to flood into the room.

With his arms up to shield the light from his eyes, Numair was dragged out of the cell.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside the castle, Daine sat upon a parapet, looking at the city spread around her. The sun was setting fast, and those who had been working hard all day were returning home to their families, something she should have been doing. The wild mage's eyes were red-rimmed, but she had no tears left to cry. Her plan had failed. There was no Lindhall to help her now.

He was dead.

A gory mess was all that was left of his rooms. They still weren't sure who had done it, and there wasn't enough of Master Reed left intact to be examined.

Now Daine was not only afraid, she was terrified. Whoever had done it, couldn't possibly have done the same to Numair. Could they?

A flock of geese flew high above her, headed south. Daine didn't try to communicate with them. There was no use. Without Numair, she'd lost control. Even talking to Cloud was just too hard.

**Closing Comments:** I noticed a hole I left for myself in the search for Numair – let's assume that because of where he is being held captive, amid several extremely powerful mages and lots of magic, a focus wouldn't work. Two other things to explain for this chapter, my mention of 'Clark' as a black robe mage, is just me paying homage to other stuff. In my universe the black robe mages would be Numair, Niko, the bad guy in this story, and then four other people that strike me as being cool if they were black robe mages. Merlin, Clark Kent – I love him, he's got so much mage potential – Marie Curie – don't ask, I needed a female mage – and Colonel Sherman Potter from MASH. He's cool.  
Anyway, and that other thing I touched on in my opening notes, Numair isn't panicking. He's very calm right now, because he knows that he's got a better chance of survival if he doesn't wig out. So there y'are! See you next chapter!


	4. Candle on the Water

**Chapter Four: "Candle on the Water"**

Daine sat on the wall, the sun was setting, and everyone in Corus was on their way inside to their families. Tears fell as she looked out over the city and beyond. Lindhall was dead. A slaughter. Gory mess was all that was left of his rooms. Now she feared for her and Numair's safety. And that of anyone close to her.

The last notes of a song played on a flute swirled on the air and grew faint as it reached Daine. She whispered the words she had known for what felt like all her life.

_"I'll be your candle on the water,  
This flame inside of me will grow.  
Keep holding on, you'll make it,  
Here's my hand, so take it,  
Look for me, reaching out to show,  
As sure as rivers flow,  
I'll never let you go,  
I'll never let you go,  
_

…_I'll never let you go."_

The music ended, and Daine fell off the wall.

**Authoress's Note:** Was that short or what? Anyway, I do not own that song, it's from the movie 'Pete's Dragon', and I felt that it fit so well, that I wasted a chapter and threw it in. Heh heh heh…


	5. Dragon's Flames

**Chapter Five: "Dragon Flames" **

Looking up at the sky, Daine trotted through the darkness of late evening. Trying not to appear too suspicious, she made her way towards the royal bedchamber, knocking on the door…no answer. Frustrated, she clenched her fist and slammed it into the door, avoiding the splintering pain that went through her arm.

"Miss, I'm going to have to tell you to leave."

Glaring at the old guard stationed in front of the royal bed chamber, Daine noticed as recognition filled his eyes.

"I'm sorry Mistress Veralidaine. But you will have to cease your disturbance until dawn."

"I will not cease. I refuse! If you don't allow me to speak with the king then I shall-"

But the guard didn't find out what Daine would do, because just then, standing in a long, gauzy, pink, satin nightgown came Thayet. "Daine?" She yawned, "What's wrong? Has something happened, did you fi—"

"We aren't doing ENOUGH!"

"Daine…" Thayet's smile faded, and the wild mage realized just how tired she looked. "We're doing as much as we can to find Numair."

Jonathon appeared in the doorway next to Thayet, "Who's there?"

"Daine."

"Oh…she received this, I never got a chance to give it to her. It's addressed to me, but there's a part for her." handing Daine a thick envelope with the jagged circle seal of Carthak, the king added, "Gwith, will you lead her back to her rooms." It was more of a command then a question, and the guard took Daine's arm and led her back. The Wild Mage didn't bother to struggle, fiddling with the envelope. When they reached her rooms, Daine said goodbye and entered, eager to read the letter.

_'Addressed Formally to King Jonathon of Conté, our Royal Cousin _

Emperor Kaddar has died. He disappeared an evening last month. His body was found near Scanran borders by a party of Gallans. May the Black God lead him on.'

In a grubby slip of paper behind the formal one, was the letter addressed to Daine.

_'Daine; _

In reading this it generally means I'm dead. After the news of the disappearance of your Master Salmalín, Varice knifed herself; as you may know. Since then I knew it was time to do something for you. I'll never understand why you liked him so, but I guess love will always be a mystery. Naturally had I survived, I would of looked into the topic, but since I sacrificed myself. I shall now tell you what I did.

In hearing that an organization called the 'AKT' has formed a conspiracy against all the areas surrounding Tortall, including Tortall itself, I looked into it. I now know what lays as their guard. A dragon of dark nature, neither from Divine nor Mortal Realms. This dragon was summoned from the air, not even from the Dragon Lands. I know what awaits me, but I must go alone. If you receive this, I am dead. Please don't shed tears over me, in hopes that I may bring back Master Salmalín.

Emperor Kaddar

Carthak'

Tears pouring from her eyes, Daine counted on her fingers, "That's three dead…for Numair's behalf…V-varice…L-l-l-Lindhall and K-KADDAR!"

**Authoress's Notes: **Poor Daine. Life just isn't agreeing with her these days. Hmm…


	6. Arram Salmalín

**Chapter Six: "Arram Salmalín"**

Laying on his back, Numair was asleep…dreaming dreams of the past, embraced only by warm memories…

_"And what color robe are you?" _

"None! Do you know how hot those things are?"

"He's a black robe, one of only seven in the world…"

The pictures swirled around his mind, mostly focusing on Daine's face…

_"What has that got to do with the price of peas in Persopolis?…maybe someday…if you're very, very good…"  
_  
Images of his battle with Tristan Staghorn floated into his place…

_"I think it's fair rude of you to turn him into a tree and not know what kind he is…."  
_  
More Daine drifted into his mind's eye…

_"I hope you will think of a smart way to fight them. If you don't, I will find a stupid way…" _

"I thought they'd killed you…I lost my temper…"

The outer Numair mumbled something in his sleep… "killed….me…."

_"Taking advantage of-…and WHAT reputation?"  
_  
Still in asleep…Numair fought to stay awake. The sounds of a familiar voice but not so at the time rang in his ears…

_"Arram Salmalín? Arram - come on. You're too far off. It's alright, Arram - it's safe -"  
_  
Opening his eyes, stormy blue ones leaned over his face…

"Numair…are you alright?"

"W-where am I?"

"Can't you see?"

"Daine…?"

"Go on."

"So many tortures…pain…my gift…"

"So you do remember… can you see at all?"

Looking up, Numair swore he was in his and Daine's room back in Tortall, until a soft, wet cloth was rubbed across his face. The cold water snapped him back to reality. He was sitting, still in his cell, but Daine was hovering just over him.

"I have to go George, I must avenge him."

"I know how close you were, but remember what Jonathon said? The AKT is dangerous, you can't just go out there. What if I lose you? You and him already said I cannot go."

"George, I can't guarantee I'll be fine, but I must avenge Myles. It's terrifying that the AKT got into the palace, close enough to kill him and cause us pain."

"Alanna…" But the knight was already off, Darkmoon's hooves clopping on the cobbled stones.

Leaning on the wall, George was silent for a moment, the gory mess of Sir Myles' room still fresh in his mind. Just like that of Lindhall's there had been blood everywhere. The book knight's head hung from a chandelier. It had been terrible. Sighing, the baron turned into the castle, Jonathon needed to be told that Alanna was off…

**Authoress's Notes:** Four people down… how many more are going to go?


	7. Dear Friends of Alanna

**Chapter Seven: "Dear Friends of Alanna…"**

Face in hands, George looked torn. "I can't believe it... I won't believe it... she wasn't that stupid..." he raised his head, his hazel eyes were bloodshot.

"George, she's not gone yet. Go and see her... claim her b-"

"THERE IS NO BODY TO CLAIM! SHE'S NOT DEAD !" The ex-thief rose from where he sat, the veins in his temple were pulsing, it wasn't true. Couldn't be true. IT'S NOT TRUE! George would never believe that his lioness was gone.

Walking down the hall, carrying a neatly oiled saddle, Daine walked past the library. At the sound of shouting, in a voice that - like her own - was filled with the pain of loss, the pain of denial. "Jon?" She entered the room.

"ALANNA IS NOT DEAD! PAY ATTENTION! I MERELY SAID YOU SHOULD GO SEE HER BEFORE SHE IS!"

The saddle fell to ground.

"WHERE DO YOU GET THE RIGHT TO SHOUT AT ME, KING OF TORTALL? DOES THAT MEAN YOU CAN SCREAM AT YOUR PEASANTS! DOES IT MEAN THAT YOU CAN SAY WHEN SOMEONE'S DEAD!"

"DAMMIT GEORGE, SHE'S NOT DEAD!"

"But Numair is?" Daine's voice broke the shouting match in a quiet, almost icy whisper.

"Daine..."

"Jon. Where is the evidence? I disappeared the same night. Yet...Yet here I am, safe and sound..."

"Daine this conversation was between me and George."

"I understand that Jonathon. What I don't understand is how Alanna's not dead but Numair is."

"Would you rather she be dead?"

"No. I'd rather if we tried a little harder to find Numair."

"That's how Alanna died, trying to find him."

"OH, SO HO JOHNNY, WHO'S DEAD NOW?"

"George..."

"Sire, you did say Alanna was dead."

"DAINE DON'T YOU 'SIRE' ME!"

"Of course your highness. I'll just be on my way. If you'll excuse me a moment." She picked up the saddle and turned to George, "I'll be off to find Numair then. If you'd like to come and see Alanna…"

"No Daine."

"You don't want to see Alanna?"

"No... Not that, but you mustn't leave Corus. You mustn't leave the palace."

"Well how in Mithros' name am I to find him?"

"We need you here Daine. You'll be of vital assistance when the AKT come back. Come to think of it... I might join the AKT. If you really think about it... Against King of Tortall... Any conspiracy with _that_ as their slogan ought to be supported. You don't get killed and you do something nice for Tortall."

"Now George, see here."

Noting yet another upcoming argument, Daine grabbed George's arm, "Let's discuss this...elsewhere."

* * *

"D-d-Daine? What are you doing here?" Struggling to pull himself up, the Wild Mage grasped his hands in hers, and pulled him into a sitting position. "Aren't you supposed to be in Corus?" 

"Of course I am. But why wouldn't I risk my life for you, Numy."

"Numy?"

"Well... don't you have any nicknames for me?"

"How could you forget something like that?" Numair's confusion was apparent.

"I was just making sure your memory was all...in one piece."

Taking a wild gander he asked, "As if you were?"

"A simulacra?"

Thoughts instantly ricocheted around Numair's mind.  
'_Maybe you could and maybe you couldn't, but while we found out, Tristan would see you doing something your whatchumacallems weren't.'  
'Simulacra.'  
'Whatever' _

'Kaddar and Varice saw them kill you. You're a - a ghost or a - puppet. A simu -thing.'  
'Ozorne couldn't attach magic to a simulacra, remember?'  
'Very well then...you're Numair's simal-'  
'Simulacra'.

"You aren't Daine."

"But Numy. I saved you when you were a hawk, I was there when you changed Tristan Staghorn into an...apple tree... and when you almost died…or I thought you had. In Carthak…with Kaddar. And you saved me from the spidrens, when I fell off the cliff. Ohhhhh Numair, remember...please!"

"You must be Daine."

"I am!"

"How is everyone? Alanna, Jon?"

"They..." She bit her lip. "They don't think you're still alive...and...I didn't either... but K-Kaddar... Oh Numair! I miss him soo much... he was...killed... it was a dragon."

The sounds of footsteps on the mottled tile outside the cell echoed closer.

"I have to go... but I'll come see you...oh...Why did Kaddar have to die?"

The door opened, and the guard came in, not seeing Daine sneak out. Not seeing? Or allowing? Numair pondered.

"C'mon NSíP, it's off to the cliff for you."

* * *

Several days had passed with no news from George. Knowing that the he liked her and wanted her to stay safe, she followed his instructions to stay in the palace, to a limit. She still visited Cloud daily, preparing for when she would leave to find Numair herself. It had been almost a full week before his letter came. It was wrinkled, as if it had been dampened while being written.

_Jon, Daine, Thayet and all friends of me and Alanna; _

_I'm grateful for the support given me during this time of need, but Alanna has passed away. I am sure I will be needed at home, but please allow me to take my time upon returning. Alanna suffered several arrow wounds and a gash down her chest. Coram Smytheson has also died.  
-The ever hopeful to the future  
Baron George Cooper of Pirate's Swoop_

**End Chapter Seven**


	8. Jonathon

**Chapter Eight: "Jonathon"**

Several days had passed since Numair saw Daine. He started to flinch, even quake whenever the sound of footsteps echoed down the halls of the dark, murky dungeon. That's what it was, he now knew... a dungeon. Over the past days, two things had plagued him. The torture of the cliff, and what Daine had said.

_Kaddar._

That name was what had pulled him through his ordeal, he must get to him... but he was dead... no matter, he was a black robe. Why not bring him back and make him undergo torture?

The already lanky mage had become, if possible, several inches taller. The cliff...

Kaddar... NSíP... The two words he knew. The first, a central for hatred, the second, fear.

NSíP...

Numair Salamalín... Powerless...

N...S... í...P...

Like cracking a code in something that was more than a game, Numair now knew what was at stake. First the brand...then the cliff.

It started as rope. Wrists bound, the already too weak Numair was lead to a cliff... A large shelf over an ancient crater. With knots put around each wrist, knots that grew tighter when weight was added, Numair was pushed off the edge... but the rope was attached to a strong bar high above. Dangling, the mage was forced to pull himself up, or allow the rope to dig into his skin.

He pulled.

Laughing, the guards that had led him there, pulled his body towards them on a rope that was attached to his legs. Magically adding an extra weight in the form of a ball, the released him, a man hanging over a gully, weighed down by a large, bronze ball, hanging on for dear life.

They left him there. Until he could hold on no longer, he prevented the thick twine slicing his skin, but not long enough.

Sitting in his cell, Numair rubbed his wrists, they burned with an ache that would probably last to the end of his days. Provided that he didn't die here...

* * *

The horns from the outer perimeter of the castle called. Bleating their warning, the callers retreated to claim weapons. War was raging. What kind of fool would attack the castle dead on was not yet determined. Well, it was of course the AKT, but if they were fools... that was yet to be proven. 

High in the air, Daine, in the form of an eagle, flew in circles, it looked bad. The village had burned to the ground. The people, all but a few were dead, most of the livestock had run, flown or been massacred. Survivors were few. Unknowing what position to take, Daine screeched in fury mixed with fear as Jonathon, King Jonathon himself rode out to fight the soldiers.

With Thayet and the children in the Castle's Keep, Alanna...gone, Raoul busy with the King's Own and most of the knights being half killed on the battlefield, it left no one to tell Jon to stay back... Daine was the only one in a position to do so, and do so she would. Hurtling towards the king, she was too late, a well aimed ax swing broke through his collar bone, piercing through his armor. With a thud, the king fell from his horse...dead.

**End Chapter Eight**


	9. Torture

**Chapter Nine: "Torture"**

_'llll'_ Using the sharpened end of what he hoped was a rat's bone, Numair scratched in another addition to his number of tortures... 4...

_Brand _

Cliff

Horse

...Daine...

The last two were clearer in his mind than anything else...

The muffled footsteps and voices of several guards. "C'mon Flugt, we'll see a torture tonight the likes of which 'aven't been used since 'me father's days."

"Is this...wise?"

"'Course! How'll the master know?"

In the dead of the night, they half dragged the mage to a courtyard. In the middle stood a proud steed...wait...it was... made of... straw?

" 'Ere you go mate." The stronger of the guards gathered to watch, lifted Numair onto the horse. Pulling back his sleeves, he produced a small handful of fire, pouring it out of his hand onto the horse, it was instantly ablaze. Backing up, he and his friends stood together to watch a fire-full bonanza that would make any and all pyromaniacs and arsonists proud. The flames were already licking up towards Numair's legs... Large bright red fire gleamed as the guards grinned. It had most definitely been worth sneaking out of their rooms, stealing a prisoner and making their own form of torture...it had definitely been worth it.

As the smoke rose into Numair's eyes, they watered. As the fire licked his legs, threatening to set his robe ablaze, they burned. As the flames grew higher, he collapsed. Falling into the arms of another man. One who was not built to be a guard.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Uhh... sir... it was Flugt's idea, h-he led us to."

"Who is this Flugt?"

"It wasn' me fault sire... I I-I-Was merely... tricked..."

"You are Flugt." Turning, he motioned to the large man behind him, another newcomer. "Baum, take Master Salmalín back to his..." he raised an eyebrow, "rooms."

Showing no sign of emotion, Baum took Numair from the other mage's arms, and carried him back to his cell...

The fourth torture... Daine... she burned just as fiercely in his mind as the fire did.

_"How do you get in and out?" _

"I'm friends with the guards."

"Just like you were friends with Kaddar?"

Instead of bursting into tears as he half expected her to, she leaned over and slapped him. It was with a strength that Numair didn't know she had that she hit him with. Leaving the image of a large hand on his cheek to add to the number of injuries he claimed.

"Don't you speak of him again."

"Why?" he looked up into her eyes, they were strangely cold.

"You know, Master Salmalín? Over the past few days, my greatest fears were realized. And overcome." She smiled, but it wasn't the warm grin that Numair was used to, a cold, sinister smirk played it's way onto her lips, he shivered. "My greatest fear, having to love you." turning, she sped on her heel and waltzed out.

* * *

The battle was still raging. People were dying left and right, blood lay in pools, surrounding the palace like a grotesque moat.

Daine stood at the top of one of the towers, armed with her bow, she shot at the enemies below, taking no notice of stormwings until...

Next to her stood the grief-stricken Thayet. Her natural beauty was blotted out by red blotches from tears...Jon was dead. She had left the castle's keep when she heard about her husband, no longer caring whether she lived or died.

Looking up and across the top of the tower, Daine swore. Incoming was a stormwing, it's face looked pressed with grim determination. "THAYET! GET DOWN!"

It was too late. The queen was picked up, and carried away.

Daine was helpless... what could she do? Shoot the stormwing and hope that Thayet lived after the plummet that would follow? Or follow herself? An incoming mass of arrows answered her decision.

Neither.

As arrows sprouted in her chest, it was all Daine could do to cry out that the queen was gone.

**End Chapter Nine**


	10. The Plan

**Chapter Ten: "The Plan" **

Daine awoke in a cold sweat. The image of Thayet's panic as she was carried off kept coming back to haunt her. Why had she done nothing? Why had she never set out for Numair herself? Why hadn't she gone with Alanna? She wouldn't be dead then. Why had all this happened?

"I can sit here and ask myself _'why's_' all night, but it won't do any good."

Looking out her window, she could see only darkness... it was still night.

"Great. Just wondrous." She rolled her eyes, and went to put on some clothes.

The sky outside was stormy, clouds had shrouded the castle for days since the battle. The AKT had retreated while Daine was still being treated by a healer for her wounds. The fight lasted several days, and half of Corus was dead.

As Daine ran a comb through her thick curls, lightning flashed outside.

"I've always wanted to know what caused that."

Tying up her hair, Daine walked down the hallway through the mage's wing. Her first choice to ask would be Numair...but...Walking farther, she reached Lindhall's rooms... empty. His name plate had been taken down and his rooms scrubbed. Myles? no...Alanna? ...she didn't even want to think about that.

How many more people would die? Clearly the AKT wasn't through. Jonathon had an heir. Roald would be the king. Thayet had been taken for dead.

* * *

Numair awoke at the sound of footsteps. In his dull, dark cell, he listened. They had stopped. It was just tonight's guard, in case others decided to...add their own torture. Just Baum and Annot tonight... Numair knew that if he listened, and was silent, he could find plenty out.

When Baum looked into the cell, Numair appeared to be sleeping. Not soundly...but sleeping.

"So I finally asked him why we were doing this... And...He actually told me."

"The master told you?"

"Yes, he said- Baum, tell no one."

"Well how will I know if you told the truth that you know?"

"I know, but he says that I can tell you."

"Well..."

"Well?"

"Tell me, you blithering idiot."

"I just may not now."

"Come on."

"Maaaaaaaybe."

"Baum."

"Fine. The master says that we're going to collect all six of the black mages there are..."

"But they is seven."

"There is, fool. I know... but we ain't collecting the master now are we?"

"No."

"So we's collect the six and then we's torture 'em."

"To death?"

"No."

"Then?"

"We torture 'em till they's tortured souls."

"Oh..."

"Then we sacrifice them. And their power will go to the master. So he takes control of all the Eastern Lands, then with his undefeatable power, he goes for the Western Lands. Emelan and the like. Once he conquers all, then we get riches. Riches beyond our wildest dreams!"

"Doesn't this sound like he's handed the gold to us...on a silver platter?"

"No." Baum grinned. "It sound's like a golden one."

"But our job isn't complete yet...is it?"

"There's one who isn't a tortured soul yet."

"Who?"

"Ol' Salmy here. Master says he knows something and will hold on to it as long as he lives. We've got to tear it from him."

In the darkness Numair grinned. There was a scrap of knowledge that he held... Daine... it couldn't be Daine. Not possibly. And if he guessed correctly, the only way he could be tortured as a torture soul was emotionally. Not physically. Too much physical would kill him. But emotional... Daine wasn't his magelet. Or at least the real Daine was, but the one here... she wasn't she couldn't be...not possibly.

**End Chapter Ten**


	11. On the Balcony

**Chapter Eleven: "On the Balcony"**

"Roald!" Shinkokami's cry was full of fear. Running down the castle steps towards the mangled body of her fiancé, the future queen's eyes were blurred with tears.

Leaning over the railing, just ten feet above the crown prince, Shinko screamed her fury. What was she supposed to do? What could she do? Already she was disobeying the rules laid down by both Roald and Jon. "Stay in the keep," both had warned, but Shinko would do no such thing. Both were dead now, and the rightful Queen was gone as well. The burden would naturally go to Shinkokami, had she already married Roald. Since she hadn't yet, that left the rightful crown to Kalasin, the crown princess.

Memories drifted in front of Shinko's eyes, as the tears flooded over her face. Kalasin had gone to Carthak...She was spending the season there with Emperor Kaddar. ...but Kaddar was dead. Everyone had thought that Kaddar and Kalasin would form the perfect alliance, yet now that the Emperor was gone, hopefully the princess would come home...and soon.

"SHINKOKAMI! SHINKO LOOK OUT!"

Shinko turned, preparing to duck when she heard Yukimi's outburst. ...She was too late.

Arrows sprouted in her face and chest as blood oozed from both places. A well placed shot landed in her throat, cutting of all air, as another pierced her eye. With one final shriek, Princess Shinkokami was dead. Yet again that day, the death count raised to add another member of the Royal family.

On the balcony above Shinko's body, Yukimi screamed the battle cry of a griffin. Seemingly flying, she leaped from the parapet to Shinkokami. The Yamani maiden would avenge her mistress.

* * *

Breathing carefully, Numair tried to keep his harsh tones quiet. Wearing only breeches, his chest was entirely visible. Blood leaked from wounds that made his whole upper body look ragged, almost as if a fork had dragged itself through skin.

His wrists were chained above him, locked onto the wall, while his ankles were chained just below. He formed an 'x' on one side of his cell. Shivering, he let out a moan of agony as he lost more blood. How much longer could he live like this?

If only...

On the floor at the other side of the cell lay his robe and the broken pieces of his bracelet, his focus...his love.

Tears stung his eyes as he recalled the incident. It was too harsh to remember. As the salty water rolled down his cheeks onto his wounds, he screamed in a fierce tortured agony. A mournful sound of a mother, who just lost a child, of Daine, when she'd thought he was gone, of a raging army, preparing for battle. Numair was ready, he would. He would kill them all, the guards, all of them. He would be free, no longer would he wait here in the dark, waiting for another form of pain. No. No longer, tonight, he would make his escape...once he found out how to get off the wall, and ... out of the cell...But he'd have all day and a good part of the night to think about it.

**End Chapter Eleven**


	12. The Remains of the Balcony

**Chapter Twelve: "The Remains of the Balcony"**

"Shinko..." Yuki almost started to cry, but retained her Yamani expression; none. "Why did you have to do it?" The maiden tried not to look at the princess, but kept her focus at the front lines where she aimed with her bow. Shooting arrow after arrow, she soon ran out. 

"Yukimi? Yuki what are you doing? Get back!" 

Looking up, Yukimi saw a band of knights preparing to ride back into the thick of things. All looked tired and battered. Then her eyes locked onto who had spoken; Neal.

"NEAL? DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"

"C'mon Yuki, get out of there!" 

A ladder clanged against the balcony, several armed men made their way up, each bearing a fatal looking weapon.

"N-NEAL!"

The knight gripped his sword and leaped from his horse, launching himself to the balcony in the same way Yuki had. Parrying back and forth, Neal tried to hold as many of the fighters off, Yuki did the same at his side. From above, another man jumped over, landing just in front of several others, he started to fight, covering Neal's back.

One of the men above them shouted down to the newcomer; "OWEN GET BACK HERE! A SQUIRE DOES NOT LEAVE HIS KNIGHT MASTER!"

"No Lord Wyldon, my place is here." spoken like a true knight, Owen fought of more, killing three. Backing up against the railing, he shoved the ladder down. No more could up. The fall had crushed any on the ladder, while shattering the device itself.

"Owen..." Neal's voice was breathless, his opponent was slowly gaining the advantage.

"Come on Neal, you can do it." Owen turned to his friend, a fatal choice, with only four fighters left on the balcony, two were fighting Neal and one battled Yuki. The fourth, Owen's opponent, rapped him across the chest, knocking him down. Having defeated her match, Yukimi ran and started hacking at Owen's. 

"OWEN!"

"Go to him Neal, I've got these two." Bravely, Yuki came forward to attack Neal's opponents. Neal raced to Owen.

"You have to keep fighting Neal." Owen's breathing was harsh and ragged, his final words. "It's a jolly fight, better than bandits...jolly..." and he was gone. 

His face set in grim determination, Neal returned to Yuki's side, just as a well placed blow cut into her side. "YUKI!" Taking up his sword, Neal chops both, and returns to his lover's side. "Yuki..."

The wound was worse than it had looked. Yuki's insides were coming out, there was nothing for Neal to do. She was already gone.

Leaning over, the knight planted a kiss on her lips, as a boulder was catapulted right at them. Colliding with the above balcony, it collapsed, crushing the balcony of Shinko, Owen and Yuki's final resting place. Neal gave a strangled yell, as the balcony fell under the weight and crashed to the ground, covering our heroes in rubble. Was Neal still alive?

**End Chapter Twelve**


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